For the Love of Metal
by Layla Reyne
Summary: After Elena disappears with his Camaro, Damon reflects on what first triggered his switch off and back on again. One-shot; Post-4X17.


**For the Love of Metal**

**By: Layla Reyne**

**Summary: **After Elena disappears with his Camaro, Damon reflects on what first triggered his switch off and back on again. One-shot; Post-4X17.

**A/N:** For Kate (This Is My Escape), who wanted to know how Damon and his Camaro first met.

_Many thanks to Sandra (dutchtreat) for her excellent beta work._

**Disclaimer: The characters and other things from The Vampire Diaries are not mine. All due credit to the rightful holders.**

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You detest new car smell. It's a problem that you've never had to deal with. But after riding in this rental car with Stefan for the past hour, you're more than a little concerned that you'll never be able to get the stench off you.

"You want to talk about it?" Stefan asks, glancing over at you.

"No," you answer with a deadly glare, before turning your attention back out the passenger window, silently fuming as the Pennsylvania countryside flies by.

You've said maybe five words to Stefan since he picked you up in the city. You know the 'I told you so' is on the tip of his tongue. He's right, of course; hell, you've said it to yourself at least a dozen times since you woke up on Billy's rooftop this morning. An echo is unnecessary, especially one colored by your brother's typical self-righteousness. If he dares to say it out loud you can't be certain that you won't reach over and snap _his_ neck in a fit of misplaced rage and cause a ten car pile up right here on the highway.

You run your hand across the back of your neck, thinking that you wouldn't be so angry if snapping it was as far as it had gone. After all, it was Rebekah who had done the actual deed. But no, Elena had to take it one step further, cruelly adding insult to injury. Because stealing your car, that was undoubtedly all her. She knew that would hurt far worse than the phony seduction and broken neck.

_Your car_, for fuck's sake. She knows what it means to you, and yet, she doesn't even know the half of it, which makes this whole scenario all the more tragic.

Everyone thinks that Elena is the reason you flipped your switch back on. That your love for her banished the emotionless demon to the darkest recesses inside you. And yes, she may be the reason you now keep your switch in its upright and locked position, but she wasn't the initial trigger.

Ironically enough, it happened mere minutes after you left Lexi up on Billy's rooftop to roast. Fitting, because the day you'd turned it all off in the first place was the day she'd convinced you to leave your brother behind.

You remember how Stefan had begged you to transition so that you could remain brothers, together forever. So he wouldn't be alone. And after you'd left him behind in Mystic Falls, twice, the passing decades had taught you a thing or two about loneliness. And you had been tired of it. So when he'd found you in that saloon in New Orleans, it had felt like a new beginning. You had your brother back, you could help him, and neither one of you would have to be alone anymore. You had been genuinely happy.

For a day.

And then Lexi had taken it, taken him, away from you. The pain of that loss, the prospect of spending the rest of your very long eternity alone, had been too much. There was no coming back from leaving your brother a third time, and you hadn't wanted to wallow in hopeless isolation. So you'd chosen not to feel it, not to feel anything anymore.

Flipped.

And that bitch was conceited enough to believe that she, of all people, the very person responsible for you turning your emotions off to begin with, would be your reason for turning them back on.

Yeah, right. Not even close.

_You left her there on the roof, jumping off the building into the deserted alleyway behind the bar. When you emerged out onto the main sidewalk, that's when you saw it for the first time. Parked on the curb in front of Billy's._

_It wasn't very pretty; it was almost ten years old and starting to show its age. The forest green paint was fading, the ragtop was wearing thin and its chrome bumpers and grille were duller than a worn coin. But nevertheless, something about it called to you._

_Circling the parked car, you catalogued every dent, scratch and broken light, mentally calculating the cost to restore it. It'd be worth it, assuming the car's guts were still relatively intact. You reached down beneath the front bumper, pulling the latch there and lifting the hood to peek inside._

_And that's when you'd felt it. A tightness in your chest that had been absent for over thirty years. But love at first sight was a silly notion, especially when attributed to a car, and impossible for a creature such as yourself that could no longer feel emotions, so you quickly dismissed the sensation. You told yourself it was merely want, your basic vampire instinct to take and possess, and a healthy admiration for the powerful engine that was hiding underneath the car's rough exterior._

_And what a vampire wants, he usually gets. So, thirty minutes and a little compulsion later, the Camaro was yours._

_You drove out of New York City that day, north to a mid-sized town just outside of Boston, deciding it was as good a place as any to settle for the time being. It was close to a major city, so you could feed or steal blood bags as the mood suited you, but non-descript enough for you to lay low and fly under the radar. You didn't want Stefan or Florence Nightingale finding you again any time soon. After discovering a garage that specialized in American metal, you "convinced" the owner to hire you and to let you work on your own restoration project after-hours._

_You spent your days learning everything you could about repairing cars, and your nights putting the knowledge you'd gleaned to use, throwing yourself into restoring the Camaro, appreciating the distraction it provided._

_Starting with the insides, you upgraded parts, added power and had its engine in racing condition by the end of your first month there. By the end of the second you had all of the dings and scratches buffed out, the ragtop and broken lights replaced, and you'd given it a new coat of paint, changing it from the green that reminded you of your father's eyes, of Stefan's eyes, to a blue like your mother's, like your own._

_As soon as the paint was dry and the newly shined grille and bumpers were reassembled, you drove out of town in a mint-condition, baby blue, '69 Chevy Camaro. And you were proud of it._

_But more than that, you loved it. And you let yourself enjoy that feeling, the fullness in your heart as you drove down the highway with the top down and the wind in your hair. It was the first thing you'd allowed yourself to love since letting go of your brother._

_Because unlike him, unlike Katherine, unlike all the other people you'd loved and lost, your heart was safe with the Camaro. You knew how to keep it running, how to fix anything that might break inside of it. And it would never abandon you, never leave you alone._

What you hadn't counted on was the other love of your life stealing it one day.

Now the both of them have disappeared, in more than just the physical sense, and it feels like vital parts of you are missing too. Your chest tightens and you know exactly where those parts belong.

You ask yourself if it's worth it – enduring this pain that inevitably seems to follow love everywhere it goes. But then you remember your first and only night together, how the two of you had fit together seamlessly, losing yourselves in each other time and again. The handful of kisses you'd shared before and after that night - some for comfort, others for passion, but never failing to consume you. The road trips the two of you had taken together, each one a milestone in your relationship, for better or worse. Your fantasy, still unfulfilled, of one day making love to her in that car.

You wearily lean your head against the cool window, letting your eyes slip shut in resignation, because you know the answer. You knew the answer before you even asked the question. You knew it the morning you first saw the Camaro parked on the curb in front of Billy's, just as surely as you knew it the night you first saw her on that deserted road.

They're both inextricably a part of you now, plain and simple. And you'll do whatever it takes to find them, to put everything back together again, no matter what condition you find them in. Because they are both pieces of your heart, and you won't survive without them.

**THE END.**

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_**Always great to hear what you think. Reviews and favorites are very much appreciated.**_


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